


Playing For You

by syriala



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Getting Together, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: Derek didn’t know why he had bought the piano. It wasn’t like he played anymore, but something about it had called to him and it wasn’t like he was lacking the space or money to indulge himself every now and then.So, he had bought the piano and now it gathered dust in the loft.





	Playing For You

Derek didn’t know why he had bought the piano. It wasn’t like he played anymore, but something about it had called to him and it wasn’t like he was lacking the space or money to indulge himself every now and then.

So, he had bought the piano and now it gathered dust in the loft.

The pack had pestered him about it, of course they had, everyone sitting down at it at one point and mindlessly hitting the keys to produce some painful sound. Stiles had actually surprised Derek when he had skillfully started to dance his fingers over the keys, but as soon as he drifted into a very familiar melody Derek had slammed the fall shut, nearly slamming it on Stiles’ fingers.

Stiles gave him the stink-eye for it, but Derek couldn’t care less. After that incident, no one dared to play on the piano again, though the pack clearly wondered if Derek ever sat down to play. And of course, Stiles was the one to ask that question out loud.

“So, Derek, do you actually play or is it an aesthetic thing?” he asked during one pack night.

Derek weighed his answer for a long time. Partly because it was a loaded question, but mostly because the prolonged silence made Stiles uneasy and Derek took his pleasures wherever he could.

“Not anymore,” he eventually gave back, short and gruff, and dared Stiles to ask more. Wisely enough, he didn’t.

While Derek truly didn’t play anymore, he sat down at the piano almost every day. He rested his hands on the keys, remembering the songs he had learned so long ago; imagined how it would be to play them again, but he never pressed down on the keys.

Playing the piano was for Peter alone, and Peter was gone.

He had vanished almost immediately after the kanima incident and Derek had no clue where he had gone, or if he would come back, but as long as Peter wasn’t there, Derek wouldn’t play a damn thing.

Peter was the one who had taught Derek most of the songs he knew, even though Derek had more talent than Peter. Peter had never really loved to play the piano; he always told Derek that he had learned it because he loved the sound of it, and since no one in the family could play, he taught himself.

Peter liked it well enough, he had said once, but he didn’t love it, not like Derek did. Still does, probably, though he would never find out if Peter didn’t come back to him.

Derek could still remember the very first time he sat on the bench with his uncle as Peter played a simple, easy song. Derek had been mesmerized, not only by the sound Peter produced, but also by the sure and swift way his hands had moved over the keys.

Derek had begged to be taught afterwards, and while Peter had told him it would be more difficult for him, given that he still had so very small hands, he had still shown Derek some easy combinations of notes.

Talia had been so angry with him when Derek would play them on repeat for hours every day, but Derek loved the small proud smile Peter always directed at him when he played, so he had never stopped.

But eventually Peter had taken pity on Talia and had shown Derek more combinations, easily drifting into easy songs, and it had all went on from there. Soon it became apparent that Derek was good at playing; picking up new songs was easy for him, and he loved the calm feeling that always overcame him when he sat down at the piano.

The fact that Peter was beyond proud of him, and always came downstairs as soon as Derek started playing certainly played into Derek’s love for this too. But it also meant that playing now made no sense to him. Peter wasn’t there to listen, wouldn’t come downstairs and praise Derek for whatever new song he had learned and so to Derek, it wasn’t worth the effort.

Instead the piano gathered dust, though Derek did make sure that it was always tuned. He still had hope that Peter would come back to him eventually.

“Dude, I don’t get it,” Stiles complained once again during a pack evening. “Why do you even have this if you don’t play? And if you won’t allow anyone else to play?” he asked, and Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe I got it just to annoy you,” he easily gave back and watched in amusement as Stiles huffed unhappily.

“It just doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense to you,” Derek told him, and turned around to end the argument.

“I bet you can’t even play,” Stiles snapped at him, as if questioning his skill would make Derek sit down and play.

“Maybe I can’t anymore,” Derek replied, unwilling to raise to the bait, and also because it was true.

It had been eight years since he had sat down at a piano, and maybe his hands had forgotten how to coax music out of it. It was a possibility. Maybe Peter had taken that particular skill with him when he left.

Derek couldn’t even find it in him to be angry at his uncle. Playing the piano was soothing and it had always made Derek happy, but only because Peter was there, so if he was being honest, it was Peter’s to take anyway. Derek had no use for that skill without Peter’s proud smile and how he would always card his fingers through Derek’s hair when he had finished a song.

No, Derek was sure he couldn’t play without his uncle.

~*~*~

Peter came back on a Tuesday.

Derek wasn’t even there for that; he was out buying groceries and when he came back to the loft there was an unfamiliar car in front of the building and a familiar heartbeat in his home. Derek forced himself to take the stairs at a normal pace, even though everything in him pushed to run up to the loft, to see if it was true, or if he was finally mad enough to hallucinate his uncle’s heartbeat.

But Peter was there, smug as always, when Derek opened the door. He was standing at the piano, one finger on a key, but he wasn’t pressing down on it.

“I didn’t know you still played,” Peter said, voice smoother than Derek had heard in a long time, his hair longer and his stance more open than before.

“That’s because he doesn’t,” Stiles said, barging into the loft without a care in the world and Derek cursed himself.

He hadn’t even heard him coming, he was so caught up in Peter.

“I can’t say it’s good to see you back, creeper wolf, but welcome back anyway, I guess,” Stiles went on before he turned around to Derek.

“Here’s the bestiary Lydia and I translated,” he said and slammed a USB drive on the table.

“And that couldn’t have waited until the next pack night?” Derek asked, and Stiles grinned at him.

“I do love to annoy you,” he gave back and then went out of the loft without a look back.

Derek hated to admit it, but Stiles always succeeded in annoying him, too.

“Nothing much has changed around here, I see,” Peter drawled from his place at the piano and Derek sighed.

“No, it really hasn’t,” he gave back and then went into the kitchen to put his groceries away.

He kept an eye on Peter, who had followed him, and he had to admit that Peter was looking better. Whatever he had done when he went away, it had certainly helped him. He looked a lot more like the uncle Derek remembered form before the fire.

“Where did you go?” Derek couldn’t help but ask, and he was just glad that he managed to keep the hurt out of his voice.

“Here and there,” Peter gave back with a shrug. “I needed some time away. Needed to get some things in order.”

Derek nodded, because he certainly understood the first part. He and Laura had spent six years away, and it had still hurt to come back, even after all these years of grieving and healing. Peter didn’t get to do any of that, and then he also died here, so Derek understood his need to get some space.

He just wished Peter would have stayed in contact somehow.

“Why do you have the piano if you don’t play anymore?” Peter suddenly asked, and Derek turned to look at it.

It seemed different somehow, more inviting, and Derek’s fingers actually itched with the need to go over and play something.

“I don’t play for them,” he gave back and walked over to the piano without looking at Peter.

He contemplated for a second what he would play, but the answer was easy. As soon as his fingers settled onto the keys in their familiar position he started to play Peter’s favourite song.

It was like Derek had never stopped playing, his fingers dancing over the keys, and Derek lost himself in the familiar motion.

He _had_ missed this.

But what he had missed even more was Peter, and he realized that when his eyes immediately searched for him when Derek was done playing.

Peter was looking at him like he used to, before Derek had gotten them all killed, and when Peter came over to card his fingers through Derek’s hair, a gesture he had done a thousand times before, Derek felt tears prick at his eyes.

“I only ever played for you,” Derek choked out and Peter hauled him into a hug, nosing at his neck and cheek, while making soothing noises.

Derek clung to him, afraid that if he would let go, Peter would vanish again, would leave him all alone again, and he wasn’t sure if he could survive that again. But Peter was there, arms secure around him, and Derek almost drowned in the sound of his steady heartbeat, he was listening so intently to it.

“Please don’t leave me again,” Derek whispered and choked down a hurt noise when Peter pulled slightly away at that.

“I won’t,” Peter promised him, cupping his cheek and stroking his thumb under his eye as if he was wiping away a tear, though Derek was sure he didn’t actually cry. He leaned into the hand anyway.

Peter used it do draw Derek closer, so he could press two, three soft kisses to his lips, before he dragged his nose from his cheek up to his temple, scent-marking him in the most intimate way.

Derek returned the gesture, making sure that every wolf knew that Peter was his, and something in Derek settled at the gesture and at Peter’s content growl.

When Peter sat them down on the bench and started to show Derek a new song to play, Derek knew that Peter wouldn’t leave any time soon.

~*~*~

Derek was playing the new song when the pack filed into the loft for their weekly evening. Derek was aware that everyone was staring, keeping silent in apparent fear of spooking Derek, but Derek concentrated on the song, and on the feeling of Peter’s hand at his neck.

When he was done, Peter leaned down to press a kiss to his hair, whispering a soft “Perfect,” before they both turned to face the pack.

“I thought you didn’t play,” Scott said accusingly, and Derek shrugged.

“I didn’t have a reason to,” Derek gave back.

“Having the piano is not enough?” Stiles asked, and Derek couldn’t help but to look over at Peter, who was still pressed close to him.

“No, it really wasn’t,” he said with a small smile and leaned further into Peter, who easily adjusted his stance to take Derek’s weight.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at them, clearly trying to figure out what was going on, and Derek could see the exact moment he finally got it. His face got less annoyed, softening out around the edges and Derek would almost say he seemed happy for them. But that was before Stiles opened his mouth again.

“If you start talking about muses or some shit, I’ll make sure that your piano is off key,” he threatened, and Derek chuckled.

He knew Stiles would find a way too.

“Fine,” he huffed and got up to join the pack in front of the TV.

Derek dropped a kiss to Peter’s shoulder before he dragged him along and pushed him down on the couch, before he curled into his side. Peter had his arm securely around him, pulling him even closer and nuzzling at his temple and Derek went boneless against him.

He had always enjoyed evenings with the others, but only now did it feel like _pack_ to him again. Only now did it feel like home.


End file.
